


Aftermath

by CheerUpLovely



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: 3x01 fic, Episode Fix-it, F/M, Season/Series 03
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-17
Updated: 2017-04-17
Packaged: 2018-10-20 07:17:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10657605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CheerUpLovely/pseuds/CheerUpLovely
Summary: The moment Oliver knows that he’s in love with her is when she’s laying out before him. She’s prone on the table that he’s been on so many times with her taking care of him, and all he can do is stroke back the hair from her blood-stained forehead. He wants to move, to take charge, to go after the people that did this to her - to them - but all he can do is stand there beside her, because the idea of being apart from her and her waking up without him is hurting the part of his heart that he reserves exclusively for her.That’s when he knows.





	Aftermath

**Author's Note:**

> I'm a sucker for any hurt/comfort fluff that occurs at the end of 3x01 as an alternative to Oliver pushing her away, so I came up with this little drabble to satisfy my feels

The moment Oliver knows that he’s in love with her is when she’s laying out before him. She’s prone on the table that he’s been on so many times with her taking care of him, and all he can do is stroke back the hair from her blood-stained forehead. He wants to move, to take charge, to go after the people that did this to her - to them - but all he can do is stand there beside her, because the idea of being apart from her and her waking up without him is hurting the part of his heart that he reserves exclusively for her.

That’s when he knows.

Oh, he knew that he loves her. He’s pretty certain he’d been about to tell her that over dinner before the explosive interrupted things. He’s known it for a while now. He’s reminded of it every time she smiles at him, every time there’s a flicker of gold in his eye line when her ponytail swings, every time she emails him another case study of how to improve his business image with one of her signature smiley face emoticons following it.

But now, with a slight tremor in his fingers as he curls his free hand around her still one, he knows that this is not adoration, infatuation or even an obsession.

He’s in love with her. Entirely. Completely. Eternally.

Up close, he can see the evidence of her nerves for tonight shrouded in the soot that covers her from the explosion. He can see the slight shake that she had in her hand when applying her eyeliner, the extra layer of red coating her lips for that flawless finish, the earrings that she’d worn once to the office on the day of a big meeting because they were her favorite pair. How long has she spent perfecting her hair when she’d stepped out of the shower after work? How many dresses was she torn between wearing? Were the red heels new or has she been keeping them for the perfect occasion?

For all the build up they’ve had over the last few years, who’d have imagined this had been nothing but a nervous first date? He’s felt a discreet humming through his body today at the thought of ending it across a table from her, an anticipation of those smiles she has for only him, of what her eyes look like when she’s seeing him as more than a boss, a friend, or a partner.

Tonight he’s come so close to starting the rest of his life with her, and as his gaze roams over the charred marks on her crimson dress, he wonders whether that’s still a possibility for them.

“ _Oliver_!”

The way she bolts up towards him finally draws movement out of him. He meets her halfway, matching her racing breaths with soft words that don’t quite register because all he can think about is those fearful eyes staring back at him. Part of him is glad that she’s awaken in search of him, that she knows that he’ll be right at her side, but that’s pushed aside by the part of him that’s just carried her away from a burning restaurant without any idea if she’ll really be okay.

But she is. He can see that now. There’s no dangerous burns although she’s covered in ash and grime, and the head wound is worrying him a whole lot, but she’s awake, and she’s looking at him, looking _for_ him, and she’s alive.

He’s not sure what words he speaks when she agrees to lie back on the metal table beneath her, never relinquishing the grasp she has on his arm in case he can even fathom the idea of leaving her side. He knows how the cold metal stings the skin, but he can still feel the choking heat of the ruined building and he imagines the cool surface must be quite soothing to her heated flesh.

And then he’s over her, carefully pushing her tangled her away from the bleeding gash on her hairline and finding that he’s not so worried. He’s aware that head wounds bleed deceptively freely even though the wound is shallow. It’ll bruise around the impact site, but he doesn’t think it will scar, although all he can bring himself to say is that she’s okay.

She’s _okay_.

Her eyes never leave his, not until her breathing has settled and her eyes slip close. “Felicity, eyes open,” he directs, far more briskly than he means to but the panic of her slipping away again is too real. “I need you to stay awake, okay?”

“Okay,” she repeats, nodding with a slight wince, and she’s in pain, he needs to do something about that. She’s hurting, he needs to fix it. “Are you okay?” she asks him, squeezing her hand around his forearm.

It halts everything in the forefront of his mind - because everything he’s focusing on is her, her, her, and she is asking him to reverse that. He doesn’t matter right now, not in his own set of priorities, because all that matters is that he has the bodily action to get her to safety and he hasn’t died in the process, so as far as he’s concerned, he’s fine.

“We’re both fine,” he assures her, bringing his free hand over hers with a touch of assurance. “You’ve hit your head though, so we just need to be careful for a while, keep an eye on you.”

She processes this with a deep breath, something he admires about her. It never takes her longer than the space of a breath to shift her reality to whatever has changed around her. She moves with the task at hand, applying herself however she’s needed, but right now all she needs to do is keep breathing and keep holding onto him, never letting go if he has his way.

That’s what he wanted for his evening. To never let her go.

He had no intention to rush anything, but this was Felicity. This was the woman who holds every part of him in the palm of her hand. As much as he wants to be a gentleman who planned to kiss her goodnight and see her to her door safely, he knows that if she’d invited him inside he’d have been a slave to her offer and spent the night with her in his arms. He wants to be better than he has in the past, to wait, take things slowly, to find appreciation in the slow burn, but they’ve been dancing around this for over a year now, and they hardly need to waste time with getting to know each other.

He’s already in love with her. He’s already planning on spending every day falling more in love with her.

There’s nothing left to fight.


End file.
